Princes of Stormhold  Mainly Septimus
by Constance Volrune
Summary: A look at the princes'  and briefly of the princess's  past.
1. Chapter 1

There were seven of them. The two oldest ones stood in the shade of a sycamore, watching their younger brothers.

"I bet he catches the first fish," one of them said presently.

The other one squinted at the reflecting water. "Who, Secundus? Quartus or Septimus?"

Secundus let out a breath of exasperation. "Honestly Primus, do you really expect Quartus to catch anything with that broken arm? I was pointing at Septimus."

Primus returned his gaze to where the younger boys were all now thrashing about, except for Septimus who remained stone still. And then there was suddenly a fish in his hands. Primus had not even seen his youngest brother move.

"You see?" Secundus said. "We'll have to watch out for him.

Primus nodded. Then frowned. "What do you mean by 'we'?"

There was a short silence and then Secundus answered, in a slightly stilted voice, "Simply that as the eldest we must look out for one another first and foremost."

Primus left it at that, though he knew that an alliance between any of his brothers would be impossible. Unlike other kingdoms, where the oldest male inherited the throne, Stormhold princes were to compete with one another for it. To the death. When the king died, the last brother standing would take his father's place.

"You cheated!" Quintus accused, pointing a finger at Septimus.

"Yeah," Sextus chimed in. "We're supposed to be using our hands.

Septimus looked down at his own hands. One was empty, not even wet. The other held a dagger with an impaled fish.

"If you don't play by the rules, then don't bother to play at all." Septimus hadn't seen who'd said it, but he was pretty sure it was Quartus. When he did finally look back up, all his brothers had left him, except for Tertius, who looked extremely uncomfortable.

He started over to his younger brother, but held back. "Don't worry about them, Septimus. They're just jealous because none of them have ever caught one before."

"Yes, they have. Just not with their bare hands. But that's stupid. Why would you use your hands?"

Tertius, already ill at ease, opened his mouth and closed it again, much like the fish were doing at his ankles. At last he shrugged and headed out of the water, muttering to himself that he was definitely too old for such childish water games.

Completely alone now, Septimus too exited the water. Once out, he flung the dead fish off of his dagger and sat on the shore. Sextus, Quintus, and Quartus were now seeing who could stay under water the longest. With any luck one of them would drown. He turned his head up toward the sun, so as to appear relaxed, but really he was thinking. Opening his senses. Primus and Secundus, now joined by Tertius, were watching him, he knew.

Septimus sheathed his dagger and walked back into the still lake's water. Sextus, the first to come up for air, looked at him uneasily, but when Quartus popped up he forgot about it and focused on splashing his older brother. The youngest brother shook his head and marveled at such folly. Didn't his brothers realize that the company they kept were their competitors for the crown? When he was waist deep, he sat down, so that the water came up to his neck. Again he was very still.

"What do you think he's doing now?" Tertius asked. He looked out of the corner of his eye to see if his observational question impressed either of his older brothers. It hadn't.

"Isn't it obvious?" Secundus sneered. "He's trying to catch a fish…with his bare hands."

Primus, perhaps the most kind-hearted brother, felt pity for the boy. It was simply unheard of to catch a fish in your hands. The little creatures were too slippery, and human hands were too slow and clumsy to grasp them.

After a while, the three eldest brothers tired of watching Septimus and turned instead to the next set, who were now out of the water and doing tests of strength.

The boys moved quickly, from trees to grass to rocks and back to the water – but never to where their youngest brother was. The men moved with the sun, following the shadows, until it was nearly sunset where they came to rest beside the horses.

"Tell our brothers that it is time we returned to the castle," Secundus ordered, swinging up into his saddle.

The servant walked quickly over to the rocks where Quartus and Quintus were daring Sextus to jump. Luckily for him, the servant came and he was unable to do it.

The boys dragged their feet glumly back to where the horses were. But were cheered to find Tertius having a hard time getting into his saddle.

They'd been mounted for some time, when Sextus broke the silence. "Oh, let's do go already! It isn't like he doesn't know the way back himself. And we can leave a servant to guide him if he does get lost."

Tertius, now in seat courtesy of Primus and two servants, started to scold him when his own horse started to paw the ground. "Oatberry is getting antsy," he remarked.

"We can't sit here all night, the sun is setting and we should be half way home by now! Bah, I'll go and get the little whelp." And with that Secundus pulled hard on his horse's reigns, so hard that a normal horse would have screamed. But this one was used to its master's harsh ways. He then kicked it into a gallop and headed for the water, the sunset, and his brother.


	2. Chapter 2

"Prince Septimus," the servant skirted the edges of the water, not wanting to get wet. "Your brothers are waiting for you. They wish to return to the castle. Please, your highness, will you come out of the water? I fear also that you may catch a chill, as it is now late."

Septimus closed his eyes and forced his breathing to steady. He would not let all this time go to waste. After sitting for so long, his body was cramping, but not cold, as his body had adapted to the water's temperature. Finally, a little minnow that had been darting around him was just above his cupped hands. Slowly, he raised his hands. So slow that it was as though he himself was a part of the lake. When he was a fin's length away from the fish, he shot his hands upwards, careful that he did not drop it. He also made sure that his fingers did not leak water. He wanted this fish alive.

"Your highness," the servant was still blathering on.

"Shut up."

The servant balked, but quickly recovered composure. "Prince Septimus, you should not speak as such. Even to a servant. What would your father say?"

Septimus let his dark eyes bore into the man's until he squirmed. "He'd say you'd better look for a new master, that's what." That shut the servant up.

The two figures, walking painfully slow, made their way to where the other princes were gathered. On the way, they met Secundus.

"What took you so long?" Secundus demanded. When Septimus didn't answer, he turned angrily on the servant. "Well?"

The poor man bowed and answered in a quavering voice, "I'm sorry your highness. I did the best to my abilities."

"Apparently," the older prince waved his arms to emphasize his words, "that's not good enough. Are you telling me you could not get a mere boy out of the water?" They all knew, even – especially – Septimus, that that question was unfair. For he was not a 'mere boy' but a prince. What was the man supposed to do? Drag his prince out of lake? He'd probably have gotten a knife in the gut as thanks for that deed, or the very least a hanging. As it was, he hung his own head in adequate shame.

"My apologies, Prince Secundus."

Secundus sighed. "Septimus, come along." He held out a hand, meaning for the young prince to ride back with him.

"No," Septimus said.

The hand dropped and the face came down with it, into a frown. "Excuse me?"

"I can't ride with you. I have to show them." He nodded toward the distance where the rest of their brothers were.

"Show them what?" With any of his other brothers Secundus wouldn't have cared the least, but young Septimus was different.

The boy hesitated, and then slowly stretched his arms out and up to where his older brother could make out the little darting creature. He jerked back in surprise.

"By the gods! You-you caught one! I mean, you actually… That is to say, you, you didn't cheat?"

Septimus shook his head. "It's a stupid game, but…" he trailed off shrugging his shoulders, and in the process almost lost his prize. He took extra care after that.

So Secundus rode on ahead, eager to share this news with Primus.

When Septimus did finally arrive, he was greeted with half impatient and half expectant brothers. "What took you so long?" Sextus whined.

Septimus glared up at him, but didn't answer.

"Answer me!" Sextus shouted.

"Why don't you get off your horse and see for yourself?" Primus suggested.

Sextus thought about making a smart remark, then thought better of it. Grumbling he and Quintus and Quartus got off their horses. Tertius, who had not been informed, strained to see what the youngest prince of Stormhold had in his hands. He did not want to get off his horse.

"You cheated didn't you?" Quartus said.

"Of course he cheated!" Sextus agreed, nodding emphatically. "Didn't you see his face? It was too smug. He's just trying to fool us."

Confused, Septimus frowned, "No I'm not. And I didn't cheat. I caught it."

"How do we know you didn't use your shirt as a net?" Quartus challenged. "Prove that you caught it with your bare hands. Prove it!"

Septimus (still young, keep in mind!) blinked back tears.

"You can't. Can you." Quartus turned away and got back on his horse.

"You're a liar and a cheat, that's what you are! Unworthy of the Stormhold title!" Quintus yelled. Having felt left out of the previous conversation, he did something extra to satisfy his ego. Quintus raised his hand and smashed it into Septimus'. The minnow and the water, that had taken him so long to get and then to deliver, were now a bit of mud and dead.

"Quintus!" Primus said sharply.

Quintus ducked, but didn't apologize.

The ride back was long, but not quiet. Primus and Secundus talked about Septimus. Quintus and Sextus were complimenting Quartus on being able to get up onto his horse with a broken arm, and making fun of Tertius for not being able to do it. Septimus rode in the back, not with the servants, but not with his brothers either.

Then, Stormhold came into view, and he couldn't help but smile. It was his. His kingdom. He may be the youngest, but somehow, he just knew that he was meant to be king.


	3. Chapter 3

Some years later, the young Prince Septimus grew into a young man. Through his teen years he had become even more alienated from his brothers. But he did not mind as much as he had when he was younger at being left alone. And he wasn't always alone. There was his younger sister, Una. The only daughter of the king of Stormhold, she was the one to kill the last queen of Stormhold – Quartus and Sextus having killed off the first two in childbirth.

Over these years, Septimus noticed that his brothers had formed some uneasy alliances with one another. Quartus, Quintus, and Sextus stayed together for the most part. While Secundus – who had given up wooing Primus – was with Tertius. Primus, Septimus suspected, seemed to think that he was a shoe-in for king and spent most of his time checking court affairs. And then there was himself. The others had lost interest in him, yet were still weary of the dark prince. He smiled. The nickname suited him well, and it was less cutting than some of the other ones he'd heard in the great stone halls of the Stormhold castle.

"Mind if I come with you?" Septimus, who'd been reminiscing while waiting for the stable hand to get his horse looked down at the girl. She had hair as black as his, and eyes to match. Tiny though she was, he knew she was not weak.

He ran a hand through his own hair. "Una…" That tone was never promising.

"Oh, please brother! Please?" The princess, who never showed any care to her other brothers, dropped down on her knees. "Please, Septimus. I can't take another hour doing lessons. It's so boring! Sewing has to be the most tedious thing one can do for a whole day." Septimus could think of something more tedious (waiting for a fish).

He sighed, and looked up at the sky. The clouds were thin, which meant it would not rain any time soon. Then he looked back down at his sister.

"Did you ask Father?"

Una was quiet and shook her head.

"You really should have asked Father if you could go riding. Or Primus. At the very least you could ask have asked Quintus." (Quintus is Septimus' and Una's oldest birth brother)

Una got to her feet and brushed the dirt off her dress. "I'm asking you." She snapped her gaze upwards into his. Septimus found that he could hold everyone's eyes. Before Una had been born, his reflection was the only person he looked away from first. Now he looked away.

"Very well," he growled. "Go to the stable hand to get your horse ready. I don't want to have to wait long. It looks like rain."

The princess squinted at the brilliant blue sky, smiled to herself, and scampered happily into the stables.

Meanwhile, the king watched worriedly from a high window. While he was glad both of his youngest children were getting along, he couldn't help but suspect Septimus having a deeper motive than simply keeping company with his younger sister. But, he reasoned with himself, none of his sons had killed each other yet, so Una should be safe for the time being.

"What are you looking at, Father?" Primus came to stand beside him at the window. His oldest son really was irritating him. Still better than Tertius, always sniveling at one thing or another.

"Nothing," he answered. When he turned back they were both on their horses, growing smaller.

Septimus, who had wanted to ride to clear his mind, rode in silence. Una, who'd wanted to ride just for the sake of having something to do, rode in uncomfortable silence. That is, her end of the silence wasn't kept up very well.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"We can go anywhere. I am a prince of Stormhold and you are a princess of Stormhold, we can go wherever we like."

Una frowned. That didn't really answer her question. "I want to see a witch's den," she said decisively.

Septimus looked at her out of the corner of his eye. He couldn't help but grin. His sister sure was a gutsy little thing. "Well… you can't go there."

"Why not?" she asked hotly. "You just said that we could- Wait, what do you mean 'I' can't go see one. You mean you can?" she stopped her horse.

Septimus slowed and came to a halt so he was just a foot or so in front of Una. "You're a girl," he said simply. When she opened her mouth to tell him just what she thought about that answer, he hurried to add, "And you're too young." He urged his horse on, but stopped again when he realized Una wasn't coming.

Septimus wasn't great in the whole comfort/understanding department. When he didn't offer any sympathy, Una kicked her horse into a gallop rushing past him.

The youngest prince sat in a shock for a moment before he went after her.

"Una! Una, stop!" But she ignored him, until she came to stop at a little stream. There she stopped. An old woman was knelt there, but rose when the girl approached.

"Hello, child." The hag grinned showing a row of broken teeth.

Una kept her distance. "Who are you? What business do you have here?"

"Please, don't harm me. I'm nothing but a poor, old, helpless woman."

The princess got off her horse and got closer. "My father owns this land, and unless you want to spend your time here in our dungeons, I suggest you get moving."

"I will! I will, you can be assured of that. But I wonder, will you help me along the way? Come here, child. Help an old woman…"

"Una!" Septimus shouted, entering the scene in a cloud of dust.

"Septimus," Una seemed surprised to see him. And no wonder, she was the best rider out of all the Stormhold siblings; it was unusual that he could have caught up to her.

"Don't trust her! She's a witch."

The woman in question actually hissed at him. "And who are you to know such things?" Her lips were drawn back in a snarl, like food deprived animal.

Septimus drew himself up to his full height. "I am a prince of Stormhold. And you have made the terrible mistake of coming onto these lands."

Una, who had been watching this exchange didn't notice the thin trail of smoke snaking toward her.

"Sister, watch yourself!" The prince warned.

She jumped back, just as the smoke hit the spot where she'd been standing, it left a small black star of ashes.

The next few moments were a blur of movement to her. First Septimus got off his horse and lunged at the witch, who then sent smoke snakes at him. He dodged most of them, but two seared through his left arm's sleeve, turning the skin there an ugly orange color.

The witch, distracted by her small triumph, and tiring, didn't see the real winning strike. Septimus, with maybe the fastest recovery time in all of Stormhold, flashed his sword up and into the hag. She crumpled to the ground, muttering and crying, and then her body turned to smoke, blowing away on the next wind.

Una gaped at where the witch had been, then noticed her brother, who was himself crumple on the ground. He writhed in pain.

"Sister," he panted. "Get…" but he couldn't say it. Would never admit it.

She knew what he meant though. She nodded, tears streaming down her eyes. "Ok. I'll go. I'll get help." Una stumbled over to her horse, and said once more, "I'll get help. Don't worry Septimus." She rode off, leaving him and his horse alone.

The pain was excruciating. As though his whole arm was on fire. It didn't just affect his arm either, it made his head ache. Like someone had put an axe in it.

What a horrible way to die, he thought. Only a true enemy should die this way. What had he done to disserve this? Save his sister. That made the pain more bearable. But if I die, I'll never be king. That made him angry. He began seeing things: his brothers laughing at him, his father shaking his head in shame. Primus was king. No, Secundus was. Quartus, Sextus, Quintus. Tertius? His head spun and he was sick. Then two forms came over him. Septimus struggled to get his sword but couldn't even move his hand.

"…just kill him now."

So he was going to die. And who was talking? He couldn't see.

"No, you don't! You are going to help me take him back to the castle. Quintus, you promised!" Una was talking. She'd come back. And Quintus. Quintus, wanted to kill him!

"Fine." Then he was being lifted. There was a lot of bumping, but it wasn't so bad after he passed out.


	4. Chapter 4

"What happened?" The shouting was making Septimus' head hurt.

"I told you, I don't know, Father. I wasn't there."

He opened his eyes; nine figures were gathered around his bed. What the hell were they doing in his room?

"It was a witch!"

"Hush, Una. Where's the bishop?" The bishop?

Septimus got up on his elbows, groaned and fell back.

"Septimus. Septimus! For goodness sakes, someone help him!"

Then they were on him. There must have been at least a dozen servants. He struggled feebly. How he hated being treated like some infant.

Finally the servants faded into the background and his father, brothers, and sister surrounded him once more.

"What happened?" the king asked again.

Septimus started to rise again, then sighed. Stuck in bed, and all his brothers there to see.

"It was a witch." There was an intake of breath around the room.

"What?" the king's eyes were wide, and his voice was stripped of its usual hard tone. To Septimus' unease, he detected fear in his father. And he wasn't alone. Primus too looked at his father, and frowned.

"Are you certain?" Primus asked.

The seventh son glared at the first. He was not a child. "I think my arm is proof enough that it was," he answered dryly.

Everyone, except for Una looked curiously at each other.

When no one explained, the princess spoke up. "Your arm healed."

Septimus inspected the arm that had been injured. And it was healed. There was no orange shading, nor pus, nor any cuts. Nothing. It was as though he'd never encountered the witch at all.

The bishop arrived.

"My son is mad," the king said, then left.

Secundus smirked at his younger brother, and left as well. The others followed suit, except for Tertius who offered a comforting smile, and Primus who didn't look at his little brother at all.

"Why is this happening?" Una cried.

The bishop stroked her hair. "Fear not, child. I can explain."

And so he did. Telling them that after a witch's death, all spells that she had cast would be retracted, only a death that she had caused would be irreversible.

"So…I'm not mad then."

The bishop would have laughed if any one else had asked him, but he was smart enough to know that the dark prince would want a straight answer. "No, your highness. You are most certainly not mad."

Septimus nodded then stopped, wincing at his headache. "Why does my head hurt?"

"I imagine it's because of that fall you took."

"What fall?"

The bishop raised his eyebrows and glanced at Una, then left.

"What fall?" Septimus asked his sister.

Una looked extremely uncomfortable.

"Una, answer me." He grabbed her arm. "Una."

She met his gaze; this time she was the one who looked away first.

"On the ride back," she began.

"Yes?" he urged.

"Well…Quintus said that he would watch you, so I rode on ahead. After a few minutes I realized what a horrible mistake that was and rode back to you. But…but you'd fallen, and Quintus was standing over you."

Septimus closed his eyes. He let go of her arm. "You stupid, stupid girl!" She flinched. "How could you? You know that he's after my throne, don't you? My throne! I could have died."

Una started to cry. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."

"Get out."

"Septimus, please. I'm sorry."

He turned away from her. "Get out."

When he turned back around she was gone. Only the servants remained. "Get out!" he shouted at them. They filed out silently, as was their training.


	5. Chapter 5

The king was ailing, and Septimus took that as cue to start picking off the competition.

First, he dispatched Sextus. Out of fairness. Sextus was his half brother, whereas Quintus was his… 'full' brother. Quartus was a half brother also, but had not been as cruel to him as Sextus had been.

Septimus frowned as he remembered that day. He'd nearly lost his own life. It'd been raining, so most of the princes were inside. Sextus, having complained of a stomachache had retired early to his rooms. When none of his brothers were paying him any attention, Septimus had quietly left the room and followed Sextus.

The room was dark, as far as he could tell. Sextus must have closed the drapes.

When the dark prince entered the room, the only light came from a dying fire. Before the fire was a wing-armed chair, its back to him. The owner was fast asleep in it.

Septimus drew his sword, ready to make the kill, but couldn't do it. (This would have been his first 'human' murder. The witch was an 'it' to him.) Sextus was his brother after all. No, something else would have to do the job for him.

Unfortunately, he didn't realize how quickly fire spread. What seemed once so lazy and friendly sitting in the hearth became a roaring beast, eating the drapery, tickling the high ceiling, and snarling at its liberator.

Septimus had run for the door, to find it already blocked by tall red flames. He ran to another door that was not blocked, but it only led to a closet. Another door showed promise, but there were no windows in that room, and the exit was locked.

He panicked. Racing back to the original room, he took a chance at diving through what used to be the windows. Before hand, he looked at the armchair. Sextus – what was left of him anyway – was dead. Satisfied, the youngest prince held his breath, as though readying for water, and dove.

Yes, Quintus' death had been much neater. And less of a pain. The scolding he got from his father after Sextus' death! 'Could have burnt down the entire castle…' blah, blah, blah. But with Quintus, his father had praised him.

A night after celebrations, everyone had gone straight to sleep, except Septimus who had stayed out of the festivities. He said he was missing Sextus – as if!

When he awoke late in the night, he had crept into Quintus' rooms, just as he'd done with Sextus. And this time, he took an axe with him.

The only problem that Septimus saw with his plan was that Quintus' head might be too thick for an axe to go through. But it worked, one chop, and he was dead.

It was after Quintus' death that Tertius tried even harder to be in his youngest brother's favor. Septimus didn't mind too much. It was like having a servant that was too stupid to fear him. Although, he did take into mind that Tertius still spent a lot of time with Secundus as well.

Now, Prince Septimus' frown turned thoughtful. Secundus. He'd never been close to any of his half brothers or brother. And after that day with the witch, Una hadn't been particularly close either. Yet he would have suspected some hard feelings from the older prince. He had after all, killed his full brother, Sextus. But then again, Septimus had murdered Quintus shortly afterward, so maybe Secundus saw that as retribution.

Whatever the reasoning, Septimus didn't care, just as long as no one was coming after him – yet.

"Your highness," a servant called him out of his thoughts. If he could have one day of being king every time someone did that he could be king for life.

"What?" he snapped.

"His majesty requests your presence. He awaits you, with your brothers and sister, in his bed chambers."

Septimus groaned and got up. This was maybe the worst part of being youngest; you were always summoned last and blamed for holding things up. Una had it easy; she was almost always inside these days.

"Tell him I'm coming."

The servant hesitated. He'd been ordered to make sure the prince came with him. Eventually he replied, "Very good your highness." And went back to the castle.

After he was out of sight, Septimus followed.

"You're late," the king reprimanded.

"I know, Father. Forgive me." Septimus bowed.

"Well, now that you're here, we may begin." The remaining princes and the princess leaned in so that they may all hear their father.

"As you know, I grow older each day." Septimus leaned back. This sounded like it would be boring. "And when the time comes there will be only one of you left." He looked around at his seated children, his eyes meeting the youngest prince's last.

"Una," he said now.

"Yes, Father?" the princess vacated her chair and knelt at the king's bedside.

"Una, watch after your brothers." What a thing to say, Septimus thought. He well knew, as did his brothers, that the king expected them to kill each other off until only one heir remained. That made it easier for him to hand down the crown without feeling prejudiced apparently.

"Yes, Father," she vowed. He patted her hand.

"And now, we must talk of a celebration."

They all made confused expressions, except for Tertius who was trying to catch the attention of a young maid. "What?" he asked.

"A celebration, for Septimus," their father said.

"Why, Father?" Secundus asked. "It isn't his birthday."

Quartus snickered at that. But being alone, he couldn't hide his laugh behind Quintus or Sextus. Secundus shot him a dirty look. Just because he'd actually got teary eyed at having his last birthday looked over didn't mean that he was jealous of his younger brother… Ok, yeah, it did.

"Because," the king said, "he is the first to play the game."

Quartus continued to look confused, but Primus and Secundus understood. Septimus was the first son to kill a brother. And not just one, but two. And he was youngest! Tertius sensing tension started to look nervous, but remembered that he was trying to impress the maid, in the end he appeared to be holding in gas.

"Now, leave me. An old man needs his rest you know."

They all filed out.


	6. Chapter 6

The ballroom was crowded with people dressed in the most ludicrous of fashion. If he were king, Septimus vowed to himself that his first act would be to make sure all of his subjects were dressed sensibly. He himself was dressed in trousers, a shirt, and a sword hung at his hip. Usually he would keep a dagger on his person but as this was a party, he refrained. Yes, he was much better dressed than some of these other people. Frilly shirts and high-heeled boots. Ridiculous.

"Enjoying yourself?"

Septimus looked at his brother. "Primus." He bowed his head slightly.

They stood together for a moment. "Father is really pleased with you, you know," Primus said to his feet.

The younger brother slitted his eyes suspiciously, "Mmm…"

"Our brothers, on the other hand, fear you." Primus shifted his gaze up toward the party and chanced a glance at Septimus. "Was that your intention?"

"No," the honored prince answered after a pause. "My intention was to kill them, and I succeeded." He faced his oldest brother full on now. "And don't think that their deaths will be the only ones." He stalked off, leaving Primus alone to mull over his words.

Septimus was right, but not how he thought he would be. A fortnight after the celebration, Quartus was found dead in the castle's great freezer.

Secundus, who had not wanted to be outdone, feigned injury one day while out riding. Quartus, the only brother around, helped his older brother to bed.

"Please," Secundus had panted. "Please, would you get me some ice, brother? I am so grateful to you already, but if you could get me that one small comfort?"

The fourth brother should have seen the holes in this request. What were servants for after all? But he complied, having lost his companions and nothing else to do.

In the freezer, which was quite out of the way under the castle, ice covered the walls. However, the best ice, the kind that wouldn't melt as soon as you got it to where you wanted it, was in the back. So Quartus took a hemp bag and a chisel with him as he chattered down to the back.

Secundus, taking extra care that his younger brother wouldn't see him, ducked around corners and walked in the shadows. As soon as Quartus turned into the room and was a good ways in, the second brother closed the massive door shut. There was a handle on the inside; unfortunately for Quartus it'd been broken for years. Needless to say, he froze to death.

Septimus, also companionless at this time due to a female-induced Tertius disappearance, witnessed these events. From Secundus' 'fall' to him sneaking around the castle behind Quartus. The dark prince had considered warning his brother of what the second prince of Stormhold meant to do to him, but figured it was all for the best.

He knew that after the congratulations the king had given him for killing Quintus, Secundus would be feeling envious. Best not to interfere and make an enemy out of the handsome prince.


	7. Chapter 7

It was windy and rainy the day they buried Quartus. His corpse looked colder than most, the skin stretched tight across his body. Dull blue eyes stared out at his family. Though traditionally eyes were to be closed, the servants could not close them, as the eyelids had frozen open.

The four princes, the king, and the princess stood around the grave. A few words from the bishop were said of the fourth prince and dirt was shoveled onto his coffin.

After a brief lunch, Una approached Septimus for the first time since his accident. "I want to talk to you," she said.

The seventh son didn't reply. His body language encouraged words though, so she continued.

"Promise me you won't kill any more of our brothers."

Now he was talkative. "Just because Father said you had to 'protect' us from each other, doesn't mean you have to. He's crazy, Una. Crazy!"

She wasn't listening to him; she was busy watching Tertius, who with knife in hand was sneaking up behind Primus. "Primus!" Una called to her brother. The oldest prince turned back toward the room, and in the process Tertius was forced to give up his endeavor. Scowling, he skulked back over to the hors d'oeuvres table.

"What are you doing?" Septimus asked shaking his little sister.

"Saving him a lot of future pain!" she retorted. "Let me go!"

He released her. "Do you have any idea…how much trouble…Tertius would have saved me just now?" he was doing his best to keep his voice even. "Do you?"

The princess's eyes welled up with tears. "You'll never understand will you? You-you son of a bitch!" she hissed at him. She kicked him and ran off into the thinning crowd.

Septimus bent over and rubbed his shin. It didn't hurt much because as a princess, Una wore soft-padded shoes. But it'd hurt him deeper. To his astonishment he felt anguish at his sister's pain.

Going over their conversation in his head he recalled something that struck him as hysterically funny. "Saying that I'm a 'son of a bitch' is insulting your own mother," he snickered to himself. And then he really did start laughing outright. The other nobles in the room looked at him warily. Their faces made the whole situation more amusing to him that he had to excuse himself to his rooms.

From his window he could see his sister walking away from the castle. At first he considered going after her and apologizing. Ha, apologize. Never! He would wait for her instead to return to the castle, and she could say sorry to him. Yes, that would be more appropriate behavior from the dark prince.

It'd been a long day, so he kicked off his boots and took off his sword. However, he kept his dagger on his bedside table, and went to sleep.

Early the next morning he was awoken by raised voices and pounding feet. Grumbling to himself, he got dressed to go and see what was so important that it had to take place at this gods forsaken hour.

Servants were running through the halls, looking into doors. Finally Septimus came across someone who would have information as to what was going on.

"Primus," he skipped the formalities. "What the hell is going on? Can't a prince get some decent sleep around here anymore?"

The eldest son looked at his brother wryly. "Perhaps you should ask Sextus or Quintus of that?" he suggested.

Septimus turned away from him. "Never mind. I wouldn't have expected you to know anyway." He began to walk away, but Primus called him back.

"Una's missing."

"What?"

"No one's seen her since last night… after she ran off, and you were…" laughing. Curse it all. Septimus' brows drew together in anger at the misfortune brought upon him.

"I'm going to go look for her." That remark startled Primus so much that he was speechless.

"Well, are you coming or aren't you?" With anyone else, Primus would have agreed all to readily to help find his lost sister. But this was his youngest brother. His most cruel brother. And he suspected a trap.

He shook his head. "No."

Septimus fingered his sword's handle. "Fine."

From just after sun up to long after sun down, Prince Septimus searched for his missing sister. He didn't bother with the halls or gardens, as the servants would have looked through them already. The foothills were empty. And the surrounding towns were too.

When the new day was approaching Septimus sighed and retired to his rooms. Drawing the drapes, he collapsed. Mourning his sister.

The king, who was feeling ill again, did not hear of his daughter's absence. All the princes agreed that it would not be wise to tell him such heavy news in his condition. A week later, Primus addressed all of Stormhold, informing them of the death of their princess.

After that, things fell into a rut. Primus, Secundus, and Septimus would alternate on practice grounds. On the first and second day of the week, the first prince would practice archery and knife throwing, while the second worked on sword fighting and hand combat, and the last would study books of war strategies and poisons. Then they would rotate. The last day of the week was reserved for visiting their father and with each other.

Tertius would spend most of his time watching Secundus or Septimus and applauding them. If not that, he could most likely be found down in the kitchens chatting up the female population and getting snacks.

Finally the day of reckoning came.


	8. Chapter 8

**Note from the author:**

I have decided to end it here… Well, sort of. I have another story in the crossovers' section. In that story, I include the infamous Jack Sparrow and his lot. It's not a complete connection (for those of you who read this earlier and it said it was, I apologize). I hope that you will all keep reading and that you enjoy it. Thanks for reading this far!

~C.V.


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